[It's been a long time since the last time he died, and it's just as bad as he remembers. It's not even the sudden waking in a body bag, or the creeping horror of dying, it's the moral implications of what his revival might mean.

He gives himself an hour or two to settle down and try and figure out what his death price is, but nothing seems obvious and that's just unsettling him further. He needs a distraction, so he should probably let people know that he died.]

Uh, so I'm definitely fine and nothing has happened to me lately.

[Wait, what? He pauses, and then tries that again.]

In fact, I'm having the best time of my life, the only thing that would make it better is if all of you have died horrible and painful deaths recently.

[Okay, so that's... something. It has to be his death price, and it's mortifying. He really wants to take it back, but his voice just somehow gets chirpier.]

I hate you all and I hope I offended each and every one of you!

[Rhys is settled down for the night, in the evening hours after lockdown on 432. He's taken off all his extras to let them air out, and sitting in his ripped t-shirt and looking mostly comfortable. He's better at getting comfortable than anyone should by any rights, here.]

So, I am actually staying in the convenience store here in Res 3, because you don't get pushed out anymore? I was going to try and hike to the next building, but the aura was gone and...well, I didn't get shoved out. That's good news, sort of. Saves me a little hiking.

The Bad News is, that's probably because there's been a change to the food. Some of what's here has gone rotten, and I don't think there's as much stuff as there was last time I was here. Food might be starting to run out, along with everything else.

[He looks much less happy about that.]

I'm hoping it's just this store, but I'm not sure. So if anyone else hits any other places around that have food, do a check and see what you think, alright? I'm going to start rationing just in case, though.

[That's all he was really here to say, so the video feed blinks out for a while, pending responses.]

Hello? Hi.

My name is Flynn Carsen and--

And you all know that. Right. Uh. That's what they told me? This is kind of awkward because apparently people here know me? Which of course isn't mortifying at all, talking to a bunch of people who met you before, it's like all the downsides of a party but then ineffably, somehow, it got worse.

Anyway, I, uh, I need help? A lot of... help, with, uh.

Everything?

[Is this thing still recording? Hopefully so. His hands come up in some frantic gestures.]

See, it's kind of like my first time in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Or in weather below 0. Or in a place without a sun. Or with static in the air? And I'm not saying that I'm freaking out but I am kind of freaking out, a-a-and it's freezing and people keep telling me these impossible things and I don't know what to do, I really need to call my mom?

And if this is the psych department, I did not sign up for any studies and I just think that it's highly unethical and I'm going to report you all to the administration. ... Which... apparently doesn't do much? I've been told that? That's another thing I have been told by, by the guy who knows me?

Right. So, can anyone help?

[He almost puts the tablet away but then remembers something! And up it comes again, his eyes wide with alarm.]

Also! I'm not dead?? Some guy said I was and apparently they were going to bury me alive?! But I'm really not, and if you could please tell the morticians or, or, or whoever else puts people in body bags around here that this is all just one huge misunderstanding!

[In another life, Roland knew better than to apply his political principles to a survival situation; he'd learned that acting as though he were incapable of suffering only served to alienate himself from the others, and failed to keep panic from breaking out. Roland was not the leader the people looked to, here - the United States he'd led was an entirely different nuclear crater than the one they lived in, now. Here, he was just a man.

Unfortunately, the Roland who learned that lesson is now an Anomaly. This Roland hasn't come to terms with such things.

Roland withdraws from his companions and stamps down all of the hopelessness and despair of his situation before lighting up a confident expression and starting up a broadcast. Not a trace of his usual dry and sarcastic self remains, having long been eaten by illness and depression. It was far easier to act 'presidential' than it was to be himself. This was a finely practiced persona that required zero effort on his part. Now, someone had to be the bearer of bad news, and at home, the job usually fell to him. So, here goes, or whatever.]

I have to admit I'm not a big fan of "social media." I'd hoped to meet all of you in person, by now, but it seems that's going to be more difficult than I'd imagined.

So, to those I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, my name is Roland Crane. In my homeworld, I served the people of this country as their President. But I don't address you as one now. I intend to get to know you as your friend. [Or so he'll have you believe.]

...I cannot speak to the experience of the people who have lived in Norfinbury much longer than my mere two months here, but I can say with certainty that these past two weeks have been particularly difficult on me. But each of my travelling companions has been an inspiration, keeping eachother motivated and alive, as all of you no doubt do for yours. I am grateful to have come here. I am truly blessed to have met America, England and Ginger. And I am grateful to have met all of you.

And now after such hardship, it seems all of us have yet another burden to endure. But we're going to get through whatever it is this symptom portends, same as everything else.

[In other words: yes, there seems to be big problem. And if Roland knows about the lack of food, he doesn't mention it, not wanting to incite a panic. Even through such a sinister lie, he smiles:]

I look forward to seeing this through with each and every one of you. Thank you, and may God bless you.

[That last part is spoken out of habit, and came across as disingenous even before he learned the truth of his universe. So yeah, everything is obviously fine. Clearly.]

Characters: Tim and Al
Location: Building 122
Date: 423, night
Summary: Al comes to babysit Masky
Warnings: Nothing yet, anything that crops up will go in the subject lines

( Read more... )

Hey, so, uh - has anyone else had any thoughts on how we should deal with the... anomalies? Should we be calling the copies that? It feels kinda. Iunno. Disrepectful. Inappropriate?

[ Angel - who's just outside the bunker in the snow - gives the feed an uncertain little shrug as Rhys pops into view. ]

It is — we, they are what they are, why bother sugarcoating it. Don't think they're gonna be offended.

[ There's mumbling, bitter mumbling, from this peanut gallery. Rhys isn't looking at the camera, he's focused on the dented and lifeless robot in his arms.

There’s conflict in his voice. Quite a bit. ]

I'd be offended, and one of them is me, so. [She gives Rhys and The Robot Corpse Formerly Known As Dumpy an unhappy little look before returning her attention to the tablet.] Um, anyway - I thought it'd be prudent to at least share details of the ones we've seen? And how they act, or what they can do? To avoid further casualties as much as possible.

[ That look stops him arguing the point further, at least. He purses his lips and shakes his head, yet says nothing until she’s finished. ]

Some aren’t intentionally aggressive, like Enoch and... and Angel. Just toxic huggers, or they hold on a little too tight.

[ This is accompanied by a tiny wheeze that prompts another look from Angel. FUSS TSUNAMI INCOMING. ]

Yeah. Um. On that subject - if you've been touched by my-- by the one who look-- by the other me, please let me know as soon as possible? I can fix it. Um... kinda.

[ And now it's Rhys' turn to give Angel a look. Hrrrm. ]



((Bold is Rhys, if that wasn't obvious, and threadjacking is very much encouraged 8V))

Coming to you live from Norfinbury's only standing cult high school, one of several lead guitarist for the Snowhellion Band: Greg House!

[Hello, everyone. Did you need some music to laugh at the probably imminent apocalypse? Uncle Greg has got you. He has Zell's guitar, he's tuned it up, and he starts playing and singing Good Day Sunshine because screw the sun for being gone. He will call it back with the power of classic rock. Or he'll just jam out for a while. That works, too.

When House finishes the song, he'll add at the end.]

Taking requests. Looking at you, Quillster.

[Now that everything seems to be working again...sorta, it seems like the tablets are on the fritz which is...terrifying considering that's the only thing that's got any music left.]

Hey uh...

...look I'm not really big on apologies but I just wanna let you all know that I'm back to normal now and...and-- [This is hard.]

--I'm sorry for acting like a complete butthead.

So if you didn't see, the idiot evil version of me broke my Zune. And that means no more music, except what we got on the tablets. And now the tablets are freaking out so that's just great.

The Zune was...important to not only me, but to all of us. It's been there for me, us, during the worst times ever. And even if it's gone, it won't be forgotten. [Is this a eulogy? Maybe.]

Anyway, if you got links to any music, maybe we can put 'em all together here in one big thing. Cause that's all we got left.

[He's not about to cry, no.]

[ Jay is back, which means that Tim is actually in a good mood for once. You could even say that he's... happy? Gosh.

Anyway. A happy Tim is apparently a productive and communicative Tim. Just after lockdown, he posts this. Can it possibly be-- ? Yes. Yes it is. ]



WELCOME TO TIM'S TEXT ADVENTURE 2
pls note that all characters and etc depicted within this game are 100% fictional
any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental
type HELP if this is your first adventure and you need more instructions

>new game

- - - - - - - -

>you wake up in a house. unfortunately it's not your house. it's dusty af, all the furniture is wrecked, and you can see a snowstorm going on outside. you have no idea how you got here or wtf is going on, but something tells you that you've probs been interdimensionally kidnapped and brought to some kind of snowy hellhole or something. it's just a hunch you have.
whatever. at least you aren't in alabama.
you LOOK around to get your bearings as you get to your feet.

to the NORTH there is a WINDOW.
to the EAST there is an OPEN DOOR leading to another room.
to the SOUTH there is a DOOR leading outside.
to the WEST is a STAIRCASE.
inside the room you are currently in, there is a COUCH. there is also a TABLE. on the TABLE is a BACKPACK.

>what do you do?

Network Option:
Day 383 | @curiouschloride | text | My charade is the event of the season [open]

You are invited to
Mother Serpent's Winter BBQ!!

Moldy bunkers got you down? All work and no play in a shitty snowy hellscape? Join me outside the bunker tomorrow, day 384, for a day of food around the fire. Too busy exploring the bunker's glowing depths (please don't die doing that)? I'll bring food inside at the end of the day and it will be delicious but stone cold and that is your own damn fault.

Be there or be square.


Log Options:

Characters: Tess and bunkerfolks
Location: Outdoors, near the bunker entrance
Date: 383 (day and evening); 384 (daytime)
Summary: It's a cookout!
Warnings: None at present

[Day 383]
[Tess shows up at the bunker on the evening of day 383, where she stops by each of the safe rooms to spread the word. She literally goes around each room to ask people:]

Hey, did you see my thing? I'm going to make food tomorrow and you should eat it.



[Day 384]

[It's still too fucking cold outside and the sky has been spitting light snow on and off all day. It's warmer by the fire, though. The snow around the flames is slushy and there's an unfortunate lack of places to sit, but at least the air is somewhat warmer than the surrounding area. Tess's supplies are piled up nearby on top of a spare coat that will need drying out later, including a postal carrier's bag with a moderately grumpy feathered snake curled up inside.

Early in the day, the flames are high and there are few signs of any cooking happening as Tess tends the fire, looking a little bored. Later, when it burns down to coals, she gets to work wrapping the ingredients she'd cut up in the bunker the night before in packets of aluminum foil that she tucks among the coals. There's a large, abused-looking cooking pot planted in there as well, more foil over its top in place of a lid. It smells like fruit. The packets smell mostly like beef, potatoes, and bacon.]

Characters: Everyone currently at the Bunker
Location: The Bunker- please list which room in your thread.
Date: Day 376-384ish?
Summary: Many people arrive, mold is fought, electronics are fiddled with, eggs are cooked?
Warnings: None so far. Please post your warnings in your subject headers!

( Read more... )

Hey everyone, it's Al.

I've made a couple of updates and additions to the survival guide recently, and I thought I should send it out again. I know that not all the information that we have is in there, but I think that's probably for the best. This is supposed to be a basic guide to help people who are new here, and too much information at once would be overwhelming. But I do think that a compiled guide of all the information we do have would be a good idea... like the posts that-- uh.

[He hesitates a moment, suddenly realising that he probably shouldn't mention Dr. Watson's information posts on the public network, when he's so careful to keep them to the shadownet.]

Well... you all know what I mean, right? But to have it all in one place would be helpful, so if anyone would be willing to help compile that, or has information that should go in it, please chime in. We can't do this without all working together. I also think it might be a good idea to have a few words or phrases recorded in every language; things like 'I need help', or 'I'm okay', so if we're unable to understand each other again then at least we can communicate that much.

Okay, well that's it, here's the guide.

[And a download of the survival guide pings up as available.]

Okay, so Watson and a couple others asked for this. I recorded it on night 361, but it didn't happen quite the way I planned.

Ginger, I did finish the funeral. I'm pretty sure Andromeda's spirit is gone, if it makes you feel better...it went well except for the. Well. The stabbing part. You might not want to watch this...sorry, honey.

For anyone else who thinks they might get anything out of it, or just wants to see me get stabbed, this is the whole uncut video. The whole thing happened about the same as the high school. Same creepy feeling, same tool, wound in the same area.

And yeah. I didn't die, for what it's worth.

( As the stars appear, I know I'll find you starting at the sky... )

[chaos's low, soft voice speaks, heavy with worry.

He speaks in English.]

There was a warning that went out this morning that said "We are running critically low on resources. Please be patient while we make adjustments."

What resources are these? I...am afraid most of the last week or so is a blur to me.

I'm also curious about why this warning was released in multiple languages, as this hasn't been the norm for the ADMIN so far....

Characters: Al and pals
Location: Various Places
Date: 358-366?
Summary: Downtown and Event.
Warnings: Vanitas, alcohol, creepy dolls, blood, etc...

( Read more... )